I owe a lot of my sense of style to both of my parents. They were only a little older than I am now when I was born, so for many of my formative years they were young, cool, still figuring everything out. We lived in France for six months during the first year of my life - when the people around them partied, Nirvana continued to take over the world and grunge style reigned supreme. Not only did this influence the bands I would later love but I also adopted my dad's formula of band tee and jeans - a classic. I've even commandeered some of the exact shirts he wore over the years. In fact, I've always robbed pieces from his wardrobe as well as my mother's; thanks to our similar aesthetics and his very slight frame in the nineties. We both have a fondness for striped tees, large overcoats and knitwear - especially a good aran jumper. And I have the same risk-taking approach to style that my dad has always had. His wardrobe sports leather jackets in an enviable and brave array of colours for small-town Ireland, a leather waistcoat I've stolen plenty of times and some of the only paisley pieces that I have time for.
Of course, as a father, and one of the most selfless people I know, Daddy rarely dwells on what he wears or spends lots of money on himself. But when he's not dressing himself in clothes for working outside, he displays a keen natural eye for shapes, colours and textures that work together and a preference for quality over quantity that I continue to try and emulate.
Me and Daddy - both in rather cool outfits.
Daddy lurking in the corner in a Metallica tee - the only shot of him in a band tee that I could find for some reason...
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